Proxy Wars
by Mr. Trigger
Summary: For Naruto, diplomacy and business have one meaning - war.


Declassified – The Life of a Clandestine Agent

Chapter I - Rebirth

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A young boy made his way like a serpent through the foreigners' quarter. Despite being assured his entire life that he was a native, Naruto always felt more at home in this particular quarter of Konohagakure – one of the fabled ninja 'villages'. Naruto always felt like a foreigner – he was subtly persecuted by his supposed countrymen, he was much taller than his fellow countrymen (much like the foreigners), thought in different ways and always took to foreign dialects and accents. Somebody had once mentioned that his figure was "akin to glass". Indeed, the boy was rather thin, if not fit, and very tall. At ten he was already as tall as most natives a few years older than he. The boy also had a rather gaunt face with larger eyes. To boot, Naruto had a mop of dirty blond hair, made dark-hazel by soot. With a simple glance, one could easily tell that the boy was of the lower classes – not even the servant of one of the many powerful clans that lorded over the city.

It mattered not to him. Naruto always held the city with a certain pride. The city itself was a circular affair, surrounded with a large stone wall, which was in turn hidden by miles of overgrown flora (from which the city earned its name). Konohagakure was a deceptively vertical city – the ground many meters below the forest. Narrow, winding, spiraling, descending streets were the rule, not the exception. One could easily get lost. The city's outskirts were made up of slums and ghettos, from which the military branches, the ninja corps, recruited some of their grunts (the rest coming from officially recognized civilians). Few of that heritage had ever accomplished much. Those that did were recruited into ANBU (the specialist divisions) and their accomplishments awarded to the members of the 'elite' corps – the clan members and odd civilian that were to represent the city's services to foreign clients.

To Naruto, he didn't give a single iota. He was proud of his people, proud of the common man's no bullshit attitude, proud of Konoha's bloody history, proud of the stigma, proud of their liquor and spirits, proud of their weapons, and proud of the city they built. He knew that in order for him to succeed, he would have to succeed. His foster mother had taught him as such. He would always cry a bit when he thought of her passing. At least… it was a peaceful one. She… rather, he was a drag-queen. A merry, happy one that would always brighten up his day.

Naruto stalked the streets carefully, looking for a bewildered major clan member, perhaps an Inuzuka or Yamanka who had lost their way, and help lighten their pockets. Taxes, Naruto believed, should apply to all classes of society, not just one. Naruto was certainly not a socialist, quite the opposite. He despised the notion of entitlement. He held no qualms with most of the rich – most fought their way to the top, after all.

Instinctively, he made his way a few meters above the narrow alleyway, the sun a distant memory this far down under the cluttered walkways. Slowly, he moved one of his hands towards a crevice, and moved his left leg over to the next ledge, hoisting himself to a slightly higher vantage point. Probing the surrounding area, he found no targets. Deciding that he would have no catch that day, he headed back home to his 'home'.

Heading down a narrow alleyway, Naruto made a sharp left towards what appeared to be a man sized opening. Carefully taking his time running the tip of his right thumb over the edge, he heard a click and proceeded inwards. Inside the concrete inlet laid a simple mattress with an oil lantern next to it, a few metal tools that bore the indication of being home-made, and a pile of ragged grey clothes.

Tired, Naruto laid down on the grubby mattress and stretched his limbs. Tomorrow, he would try to hit the more affluent. Perhaps, he would have better luck in the upper regions. True, it was a riskier proposition, however, the reward outweighed the risk. The new 45%-55% copper-tin standard had been instituted by the Fire Daimyo (The De-facto leader of the Land of Fire) replace the earlier 56%-44% standard, however, Konoha's semi-autonomous rule meant that it was slow to adopt the new standard.

His eyes now faltering, he let himself fall into a light sleep.

Naruto awoke. His surroundings mired in a morose twilight, he stood up. A gust of wind blew in; the boy shivered violently. Quickly rubbing his hands together, he set off into the twilight alley. He climbed the streets higher and higher. The light, now shining more brilliant each step upwards, shone on the boy's face; His pores on his skin starting to heal. Finally, he reached the surface. The buildings were different – instead of the dull grey he was used to, the walls were painted either a dark pin or crème, and the roofs were of orange tile. The buildings were no longer tall, now they were but a couple stories tall – a far cry from the slums and other quarters. Plant life was more abundant – there were small shrubs and blades of grass to be found in vases. The air was notably cleaner, partially due to a higher concentration of non-fungi plant life, partially due to proper waste management on the part of the civilian council.

Naruto unfurled his back, his tall form emerging from his previously hunched posture. The mesmerizing pure cobalt sky above was a sight to behold; the sun was as beautiful as an unspoiled maiden, beholding the grace of the most incredible woman.

Naruto scanned his surroundings in a hawkish, analytical manner – one obtained through experience. The child in him wanted to relax, maybe walk around. His more… rational side disagreed. First, he would have to feed himself. Then, and only then, he would relax. Spying a food stand to his right, he decided to close in. The smell of hot-rice bread wafted under his nose; his mouth was salivating with the promise of food. Now, Naruto was an honest worker. Labor, to him, was a necessity and one to be ideally enjoyed. Walking up to the stall, he was greeted by a short, black hair man with brown eyes. He was a plump fellow, holding (what Naruto could only perceive to be) a false smile. It was a smile that spoke of mild annoyance. The man's left hand was twitching, his feet being wiggled.

The boy approached the man and spoke with a broken voice, a rather deep one at him.

"Excuse me, sir. How much does one of your breads cost?"

Naruto was met with a snide response.

"Piss off, you rat. Orphans, especially _foreign_ ones like you, can't afford it. Even if you could, you'd probably have stolen it."

Naruto was offended. Yes, he had made a living off the coin of others, however, he had only taken from those who he believed deserved it. He did admit that his moral compass was not without fault, but he had always minded himself. Ignoring that, he had also worked many an honest job. From being a courier, taking out trash, to helping out those in need. Taking a brief second, Naruto decided to retort.

"Now listen here, sir. I worked many honest jobs for my coin. I am a working boy. I was raised in this fine city, and I will always be a native." A gust of wind blew by. "Slum scum, like you, will never be citizens. Your just trash. Now piss off," the pudgy man attacked the young boy. Naruto's patience had now waned and his ego aggravated. "The fuck you saying, old man!? I am, who I am. I am from this fuckin' city, and denying me a sale is discriminatory." True as it was, discrimination against _certain _members of society was not punishable under law. "Nobody cares, now scram! You're making a scene," the man spoke in an aggressive manner. Naruto was infuriated; against his better judgment, he refused to walk away. "Damn right I'm making a scene. You fuckin' crone." In a fit of rage, he snatched a loaf of bread and made an attempt for escape. Turning a sharp, immediate right on his heels, he sprinted. The shop keeper, in a state of rage, went after to him. This effort, on part of the shop keeper, appeared to be of no avail – the man could barely keep up as wheezed, his speed seemingly deteriorating by the minute. Left, right, straight, up and down the chase went, through tight alleyways marked only by the occasional bystander looking on in confusion. The boy showed no signs of exhaustion – like a young hare, he went on sprinting for an inordinate amount of time. His energy appeared to have no limit. Ducking under a massive crate, the boy out-maneuvered the older man, only to be hit in the face by another crate. Regaining his bearings, he got up off his ass and ran, determined not to be caught.

Finally, confident that he had lost his pursuer, the boy stopped running. It had been a victory. Deciding that now was a good time as ever, he tore off a piece of the rice bread and took a bite. A warm sensation flooded his mouth. The taste was pleasant, if a tad uncooked. Uncooked dough was somewhat unappetizing to the boy.

Finding himself in a street near to the jewelry bazar. He made his way to it, if only to look for employment opportunities. In Konoha, the difference between a bazar and a market was that the former was guarded by clan militia, as many merchants were either heavily patronized or owed their existence to said clans. Government troops and the Uchiha Police-force were responsible for the markets. The latter do to the fact that they were bound through their rather… checkered, if not treasonous, history.

The Jewelry bazar was a closed roof affair – it was housed inside a large, square building with a shingled roof and a courtyard in the middle. Naruto, knowing that the merchants and jewelers there were of lower standing, made his way to the south western entrance. The market appeared rather busy that day, as the human traffic there was more so than usual. To the boy's dismay, he found no work. The jewelers and merchants seemed on edge; Naruto could not fathom the reason. The bazars were always relatively safe and free from thievery.

Strolling through the bazar, he made a detour to the large court yard that served as center of relaxation for the young, noble born ladies. The court also had another mark of significance: it was home to Konoha's oldest tea-shop – The White Lotus – a fine establishment that once served as the meeting place for the major counterfeiters in the city. That had been put a stop to when the Inuzuka had decided to establish themselves as a monopoly, and counterfeit themselves. The major, established players (and to a lesser extent, the newer, younger players) had seen the clan as threat to their capitalistic ways. Needless to say, the Inuzuka, now filled with spite and malice from the blow to their ego, rated out one of Konoha's oldest and most lucrative institutions. The city (or 'hidden village' depending on who you asked) took a severe economic blow. This being the reason that many of the city's roads were still unpaved.

As Naruto etched closer to the massive courtyard, he was graced with the sight of beautiful maidens, their significant others and ranks of their respective clan's guards. These women wore the traditional Kimonos of the Fire Court (made of silk, no doubt); their husbands (significant other, male friends or what have you) also wore silk clothes. Their guards were adorned with the best weapons and equipment money could buy. Naruto's mind filled with rage. These parasites, how dared they lord over a people that worked, and tax them? Yes, many became shinobi; that did not excuse them. Their bloodline powers were the only quality that gave them value as people. The clans as a whole were not to blame – many born within them were honest working people. But the top, those that ruled, never bled. They knew no pain. Naruto was reminded of the thing his foster-mother always said: "In stagnant waters, the scum always rises to the top." In Naruto's eyes, that was the absolute truth.

As a feeling of disgust built up in his stomach, Naruto left the courtyard.

It was late now. There was sense of weight imparted by the late afternoon sun and humidity. Mid-summer was always the most unpleasant time of the year in Konoha. The heat was scorching. Only the shade offered refuge. Amidst the constant energy of mid-town (the largest section of Konohagakure), shinobi kept patrolling, mothers were taking their children home to school and the oppressive heat kept attacking. The sun, now orange, was gradually falling towards the west.

Naruto, stricken by the heat, hugged the walls and shade as much as he could. Beads of sweat made their way down his red face. The boy was drenched. Happening upon a well, he threw the bucket downwards and hoisted up the water. He took the bucket up to his lips and drank. The cold water ran down his throat, the slight headache that had harbored for the last few hours subsided. His body felt lighter, in a health way. Lowering the bucket into the well, once more, he brought up water. This time, he simply dumped it on his head, the refreshing liquid cooling him off.

He had enough. Maybe… maybe he would try to enter the Shinobi academy. Dying alone in a foreign land was better than dying alone in poverty. Would they take him? Most likely not, but at least there was a small chance that he could be accepted. If he failed he could always join the Reserve Corps. Naruto had enough; no longer was he content to live the life he had until now. There had to be something else. Destiny could fuck off.

Bringing up another bucket of water, Naruto ran his fingers through his dirty hair. The grime and dirt stuck to his skin. The oil in his hair greasing his palms slick. The residues in his hair smelled of tar. The water slowly ran down his face. His nails now scraping his scalp, determined to rid it of dirt. His nails were filled with dandruff. Again, he refilled the bucket and washed his hair once more, only now he did so with more vigor. His scalp was slowly losing the dead, bloody skin that once covered it. Tears built up along Naruto's eyes. He wanted to be taken away, to no longer live like an insect.

His hair now clean, Naruto started to wash his clothes and body. His grey t-shirt and matching shorts had many holes, either from wear and tear or age. The boy had no clue. Like his hair, the clothes were filthy. The stench of body odor enveloped them. It was sickening. The water that ran through them turned a light brown. Naruto's body was also filthy; every orifice had some form some form of grime lodged inside. Naruto scrubbed, and scrubbed, desperate to rid himself of the dirt. Eventually, the water had washed him clean. He felt renewed. His sins washed clean. Tomorrow, he would enlist.

**Author's Notes**

So, I've had this on my hard drive for a long time. Finally, I've decided to put it out there for the LuLz. Do not worry, it will not impact my other stories that I am working on. Rather, it will help. Also, I don't mean to be preachy. The whole 'nobles are parasites' is simply from Naruto's perspective. Besides, the Kid is only ten; Time will show him that the world isn't so black and white.

Please, read and review. If you like this, check out some of my other stuff.

-Sonicanpersonallytellyou


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